Deja Vu:: A Spongebob Squarepants Fanfic
by Chiakakiri
Summary: Thirty years from now, not much has changed in Bikini Bottom; Except for Spongebob's lack of sanity & how he's developed a habit of sitting at his desk, crying over the death of his boss, Krabs. Who will come around & patch the holes? Bob x Oc, -Shot-


A weird-ass Spongebob fic I've been brainstorming on for a little while. I'm thinking maybe I favor Mr.Krabs a liiiitle too much. :3 Oh well! On with the idiocy! -Toots a french horn-

Lolz, I gave Spongebob a middle name; I hoped it would add class.

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_Hello. My name is Robert R. "Spongebob" Squarepants, and I have come to the realization that time is capable of repeating itself; Sometimes not in the way you'd imagine._

For almost thirty years nothing has changed in Bikini Bottom except some numbers, but I've never considered age to be anything important. Well, I guess I can't say that I've just gotten older, over time I inherited management over the finest (and cheapest) eating establishment in town; The Krusty Krab, A place I took pride in working for for three decades & now take pride in controlling. Otherwise much is unchanged, Squidward is, for some reason, still my neighbor, Sandy & Patrick are still my most favored friends & I gave up on boating school long ago (I walk to work now, good exercise). Though one important piece of me died on the sixteenth of September, when my employer, Eugene H. Krabs passed away at, to me, the untimely age of 64. The day I cried before his tombstone, they day my friends tried to lure me away with anything they could possibly think of: Jellyfishing, A trip to the soda shop, anything to drag me away from his grave. Even Squidward had given it a shot. They tried so hard, but in vain.

I possessed a dire need to touch his rough, tan skin, the need to feel his lips graze my forehead as he told me not to worry. The feeling that his presence induced in me was absolutely riveting; It was not quite love, but not ecstasy either: More a combination of both damning factors, like some sort of high. It didn't matter to me that he was almost twenty years my senior; I still loved him, and I'm still stuck. Stuck on the fact that he's gone, steadfast & unable to move on with my life. I spend those lifeless hours in my office crying softly to myself and trying so hard to pay more attention to the warm water streaming down my cheeks. As I began to focus on my tears, I was dropped back into reality with appalling force. I covered my soaked eyes with the backs of my hands & felt my fingers twitch & shake, why do I miss him so? It's been a good two decades since he left me; Why do I still cry so hard everyday?

"Uhm, Mr. Robert?" a light, boyish voice called through my steel office door. I realized one day that I hate "Spongebob" & even more "Squarepants", I have everyone call me Mr. Robert instead. "Y-Yes?" I croaked out & I realized how heavy my crying had become. Slowly & agonizingly, my door inched open. Lance, a young man who had worked for me for only a short time, poked his head out from behind the chunk of steel. He ruffled his long, teal hair & looked at me with his seemingly innocent, bright yellow eyes. "I heard crying..are you okay?" he squeaked & his face flushed with pink & hints of crimson.

My heart sank, I couldn't tell him anything; It would only make him working for me seem akward & it'd make him feel bad, I can't have that. I focused on his glistening locks & my eyes strolled down to the ponytail that often whipped his back gently while he walked. 'How does he stand keeping his hair so..long?' I was baffled by the sudden question I asked myself. I kept my hair short & often cropped to the left; I don't think I could stand having to actually groom my hair so feverously like a woman does.

I wiped my tears away & snatched a tissue from a small, violet box on my desk, "I'm fine Lance, you can go back to your quarters."

"Stop saying that, I hate when you say that!"

I was taken aback by the sharp ferocity in his voice; I felt as if his words had shredded me with several daggers, I winced in my chair.

He continued, "I hate when you say you're okay, Mr. Robert. Because I know there's something wrong, and for you to deny it just makes me feel worse, like you're protecting your misery! If you tell me what's up it won't give my workplace an awkward feel; I love working here, you know that." He took a breath, but I stopped him as he was about to open his mouth to ramble again.

"Y-you're right.." The tears streamed down my cheeks again, "It's not okay..It never will be okay." I slumped & buried my head into my arms & sobbed quietly. He's right. I'm not okay. I feel empty. I don't want to feel empty anymore.

I heard light footsteps that grew louder by every grueling second, and I felt a small hand pet my head. I peeked from the safe haven of my arms & was surprised by what came next: Lance pecked me on the lips & smiled. My face was lit with deep crimson & Lance's eyes sank to the ground nervously, but his smile remained. "I don't care if I get fired for that.." he whispered, "I really wanted to do it and--" I cut him of with a soft kiss to return his. I felt the heat of his lips counter mine; and it was amazing. I felt whole again; the way _he_ had once made me feel. I I was sure of two things now: This boy loved me, and I loved him back.

Lance broke away from me & cupped my face with his hands, caressing my cheeks with his minikin thumbs. Such petite, feminine hands he's been blessed with, his touch sent strong shivers down my spine. He bumped his forehead against mine & looked straight into my eyes; The bright yellow orbs read me like an open book.

"It's almost disturbing how you mourn over him everyday; How long has this gone on?" His eyes gleamed with the seriousness of an experienced interrogator; His soul was old, I could tell.

The tears gushed, "T-twenty years Lance! Twenty years!" I could feel my face pale & my mouth run dry. He held my head & nudged it underneath his chin, "Shush, hun..It's okay..It's okay..." He soothed my disturbed state.

"L-lance.."

"Hmm?"

"I..don't want to feel empty anymore.."

He played with my now bleach blond & slowly graying hair & kissed my forehead, "But..you may not have to feel empty for much longer, am I enough?"

I let his question sink in; Was he enough? I was suddenly stricken with a hideous case if Deja Vu; I had asked this question once..to him.

_'Eugene, am I enough?'_

_'Yer more than enough, lad..'_

I smiled softly & closed my eyes, "Lance..You're more than enough."

I heard a light squeal & chuckled to myself, "I'll take that positively.."

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:Does the worm: xD Fun fun fun!


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